everyone under twenty in this town, you’re going to put your foot in it sooner or later. You’ll push someone too far, get yourself in trouble.”
She didn’t know the half of it.
“That wasn’t why I picked her up. But yeah, I’d probably have gotten around to asking her some things, but she cut me off before I had a chance. Said she didn’t know anything.”
“They’re all wary of you.”
“Maybe they should be,” I snapped.
Donna didn’t flinch. “You’re obsessed.”
“I’m obsessed? Do I have a sketchbook this thick?” I held my thumb and index finger an inch apart.
This time a microscopic twitch. I’d wounded her. Trying to soften my voice, I said, “I’d have thought you wanted answers, too.”
She lightly touched the closest wall, as though bracing herself. “Would that make everything better for you? Finding out where he got the stuff? Who gave it to him or sold it to him? Then you’d have your culprit. Then you’d be off the hook. Would I be, too? Would I be exonerated as well? Could you stop blaming me as much as you blame yourself?” She lowered her head and touched her fingers to her forehead, massaged it, then said, “Let’s say you find whoever it is. Let’s say you could even get him to confess. Then what’ll you do? Turn him in? Mete out some kind of frontier justice of your own?”
“I can’t talk about this now,” I said.
“And the thing is, whoever it is, if it hadn’t been that person, it would have been somebody else. What you don’t get is,
who
has never been the issue. The issue is
why
. Why’d he take the stuff in the first place? What was wrong with his life that he thought getting high could fix?”
“I told you, I can’t do this now.”
“Of course you can’t,” Donna said with mock acquiescence. “When would be a better time? Maybe I could make an appointment.”
“I’m worried about this girl,” I said. “I don’t think she disappeared because of some stalker boyfriend. I don’t think she’d have gone to all that trouble, to have another girl dress up like her, just to ditch some guy.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Donna said. “Are you talking to me, or are you talking to yourself?”
I gave my head a shake. “I guess to myself.”
“There’s your problem,” she said, turned and walked away.
* * *
I wasn’t able to just let it go. I couldn’t go about my own business while the Griffon police looked for Claire Sanders. I’d meant what I said when I told the girl who’d pretended to be her that, even if the two of them never intended to, they had involved me.
Now that I knew the girl was missing, nearly a day after I’d given her a lift, I was reevaluating everything I’d done the night before. I shouldn’t have let the second girl get away. I should, at the very least, have gotten her name. I should have followed her when she bolted from the car. I should have asked Claire more questions. Was there really a guy in some pickup watching her? If so, who did she think it was?
Woulda coulda shoulda.
I didn’t much care for Officer Brindle’s parting shot, that I’d better hope they found her soon. But there was some truth in it. If something had happened to Claire—I didn’t even want to think about what that might be—it was a safe bet they’d be coming back with more questions.
But I was getting ahead of myself. Teenagers took off all the time, and it didn’t necessarily mean something bad had happened to them. But I knew, as well as anyone, the kind of agony parents went through when they hadn’t heard from their kids, when they had no idea where they were. Like you’re at the bottom of a well and can’t climb out. I had an inkling of what Claire’s parents had to be going through. What I didn’t know was whether getting the police to handle the matter quietly was the way to go.
Like I was in any position to criticize how any other parents dealt with their kids.
I didn’t want
She didn’t know the half of it.
“That wasn’t why I picked her up. But yeah, I’d probably have gotten around to asking her some things, but she cut me off before I had a chance. Said she didn’t know anything.”
“They’re all wary of you.”
“Maybe they should be,” I snapped.
Donna didn’t flinch. “You’re obsessed.”
“I’m obsessed? Do I have a sketchbook this thick?” I held my thumb and index finger an inch apart.
This time a microscopic twitch. I’d wounded her. Trying to soften my voice, I said, “I’d have thought you wanted answers, too.”
She lightly touched the closest wall, as though bracing herself. “Would that make everything better for you? Finding out where he got the stuff? Who gave it to him or sold it to him? Then you’d have your culprit. Then you’d be off the hook. Would I be, too? Would I be exonerated as well? Could you stop blaming me as much as you blame yourself?” She lowered her head and touched her fingers to her forehead, massaged it, then said, “Let’s say you find whoever it is. Let’s say you could even get him to confess. Then what’ll you do? Turn him in? Mete out some kind of frontier justice of your own?”
“I can’t talk about this now,” I said.
“And the thing is, whoever it is, if it hadn’t been that person, it would have been somebody else. What you don’t get is,
who
has never been the issue. The issue is
why
. Why’d he take the stuff in the first place? What was wrong with his life that he thought getting high could fix?”
“I told you, I can’t do this now.”
“Of course you can’t,” Donna said with mock acquiescence. “When would be a better time? Maybe I could make an appointment.”
“I’m worried about this girl,” I said. “I don’t think she disappeared because of some stalker boyfriend. I don’t think she’d have gone to all that trouble, to have another girl dress up like her, just to ditch some guy.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Donna said. “Are you talking to me, or are you talking to yourself?”
I gave my head a shake. “I guess to myself.”
“There’s your problem,” she said, turned and walked away.
* * *
I wasn’t able to just let it go. I couldn’t go about my own business while the Griffon police looked for Claire Sanders. I’d meant what I said when I told the girl who’d pretended to be her that, even if the two of them never intended to, they had involved me.
Now that I knew the girl was missing, nearly a day after I’d given her a lift, I was reevaluating everything I’d done the night before. I shouldn’t have let the second girl get away. I should, at the very least, have gotten her name. I should have followed her when she bolted from the car. I should have asked Claire more questions. Was there really a guy in some pickup watching her? If so, who did she think it was?
Woulda coulda shoulda.
I didn’t much care for Officer Brindle’s parting shot, that I’d better hope they found her soon. But there was some truth in it. If something had happened to Claire—I didn’t even want to think about what that might be—it was a safe bet they’d be coming back with more questions.
But I was getting ahead of myself. Teenagers took off all the time, and it didn’t necessarily mean something bad had happened to them. But I knew, as well as anyone, the kind of agony parents went through when they hadn’t heard from their kids, when they had no idea where they were. Like you’re at the bottom of a well and can’t climb out. I had an inkling of what Claire’s parents had to be going through. What I didn’t know was whether getting the police to handle the matter quietly was the way to go.
Like I was in any position to criticize how any other parents dealt with their kids.
I didn’t want
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